


hand in unlovable hand

by pensiveVisionary (hamburr)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Abortion, M/M, Sexual Content, Trans Character, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, this is an unhappy mess consider yourself warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9524159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamburr/pseuds/pensiveVisionary
Summary: “You've been drinking,” Alex accuses, as Aaron walks through the front door.“Well,obviously. What else would I be doing out at 2 AM? I’m not screwing someone on the side,” Aaron says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [i am drowning, there is no sign of land.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRP6egIEABk)  
>  you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.
> 
> in other words, a fic that's been hanging out in the back of my mind for ages. just take it

“You've been drinking,” Alex accuses, as Aaron walks through the front door.

“Well,  _ obviously _ . What else would I be doing out at 2 AM? _I’m_ not screwing someone on the side,” Aaron says. Alex stares at him, mouth open. “What? Surely you can’t think I didn’t know, it’s like you weren’t even trying to hide it.” Alex doesn’t say anything. “My god, you did think I didn’t know. You know, I might’ve been okay with it if you’d fuckin’ -- told me first, but -- no. So. Fuck you,” he says, and then he goes off down the hallway.

 

The next morning, Alex walks into the kitchen to find Aaron pouring orange juice into a glass already half-filled with ice and what looks like water but likely has considerable more alcohol content than water, judging by the bottle on the counter.

“Really?”

“Hair of the dog,” Aaron says, glib, and drains half the glass in one, flips Alex off as he does.

“Look, about last night --”

Aaron glares at Alex over the rim of his glass, then sets it down on the counter, now empty. “I don’t know what there is to say, Alexander,” he says. He frowns at Alex, more disapproving than angry, and then turns away. He goes to put the vodka away, sighs and changes his mind and refills his glass with more of that, more orange juice.

Alex doesn’t say anything, and Aaron doesn’t linger.

 

Alex comes inside, moving quietly like he’s trying to hide. Aaron, sitting on the couch, waits for Alex to turn and see him -- indeed, his reaction is as expected; he startles, gives a little surprised sound.

Aaron puts down his book and approaches him. Alex smells like sex and cheap perfume, and Aaron is angry, angry, angry.

“Christ, you couldn't even bother to shower?”

“I was going to here -- I thought you were asleep --”

“ _ Fuck _ you. You know full fucking well I’m not okay with this, and you keep fucking doing it like you don’t give a shit. Maybe you don’t! But I’m still your goddamn husband,” he says, his hand clenched on the fabric of Alex’s shirt. “I'm still _here_.” He pushes Alex back against the door, and for an awful second it’s not clear if Aaron’s going to hit him or kiss him, but he just fastens his mouth to the side of Alex’s neck and shoves his thigh between his legs. Alex groans and pulls Aaron closer.

They fumble their way to the bed, shedding clothes down the hall.

If, after, as he tries to sleep, Alex hears Aaron crying -- well. Neither of them say a thing.

 

Aaron perches on the bathroom counter, scrolls through his phone, as Alex shaves. He watches Alex out of the corner of his eye, his unsteady hands; the way he flinches when he nicks himself. Aaron doesn’t move or offer to help, lets Alex deal with that on his own.

How did they get here?

Alex goes to his knees before Aaron, and at least this is familiar, at least he knows how they got  _ there _ . They’d been roommates in college, rivals, ready to fight or fuck at any moment -- they were both more than the other had ever even dreamed of.

Alex had proposed -- proposal, really, being a kind word for it -- in bed the night after they graduated.

“Marry me,” Alex had groaned, with Aaron riding him, Alex’s head thrown back, hands tight on Aaron’s hips.

“Yes -- yes, okay,” Aaron had said. They’d not done anything fancy, gone to the courthouse later that month and got wildly drunk with their friends after. Their friends had never really given their approval -- not because of the gay thing, of course, they would say, but you guys are pretty…  _ intense _ , you know? .

They’d ignored that and clung stubbornly to each other, and now, years later, they’d all sort of given up on the two of them.

Aaron gets off of the counter after Alex has gotten him off, and goes to shower. Alex leaves for work in the time between Aaron gets in the shower and gets out of the shower.

The house is so quiet when he’s gone.

 

There's a wildfire, in the dry summer heat, and it fills their shitty dingy suburb with choking smoke. The landfill a couple miles away catches fire and it becomes unbearable. Even once it's burnt itself out and the flames are gone, the smoke lingers heavy in the air.

They take a week off work and drive off somewhere that isn't painful to breathe. Neither of them really know where they're going, but they drive all day, switch every rest stop, and when they get past the last exit, when one interstate turns into another, they're well and truly lost.

They take a random exit and get a hotel room. It's not necessarily the smartest decision, okay, they know that. But they have a GPS, they have their phones, they'll be able to get back, but for now they are away and the only thing they know is each other.

They spend the week more in bed than out.

 

But it ends, of course it ends, and the very first night they're home Aaron gets a text from Alex, saying he'll be at work late. He sighs and turns off his phone. Yeah, sure, he's working, if that's what he wants to call it.

He goes to bed alone, and wakes up beside a man he's not sure he knows anymore.

It happens more nights than it doesn't. Every once in a while, he'll come home to find Alex already there, or Alex will make it back before Aaron goes to bed, but it's not the usual thing. If Aaron is awake, or wakes up to Alex coming back, it more often than not results in bitter, angry sex. It all feels so tired, so repetitive.

Nothing has changed, and Aaron feels foolish for expecting anything different.

 

Aaron, lying awake, waits.

He hears the door open. Hears footsteps down the hall, hears the bathroom door open. Hears the shower turn on. Turn off.

Alex gets in bed; Aaron rolls over to face him, pulls him in for a harsh, bruising kiss. Alex tastes like toothpaste, all evidence of his disloyalty washed down the drain, and Aaron is suddenly furious, suddenly needs to make Alex his again, and he pushes Alex down into the mattress. Alex, appreciative as he always is, lets Aaron take over and fuss over condoms and bear down on him, lets Aaron shove his hands into his hair and take him rough and angry.

Alex comes well before Aaron does, and he flips them over so Aaron is on his back and Alex is sprawled over him, slips his fingers between Aaron’s legs and kisses the scars on his chest and is altogether too  _ gentle _ with him for it to even be okay. Aaron grinds down against his fingers and says something like  _ get the fuck on with it _ and Alex does, looking slightly miffed.

After, Alex gets off of him, rolls over to fall asleep, but Aaron stays still on his back. He speaks to the ceiling.

“Alex,” he says.

“Yeah?” says Alex.

“I’m pregnant.”

“ _ What _ ? I -- “ He makes a choked sort of sound. “With  _ who _ ?”

“Last I checked, you’re still the only person I’m fucking,” Aaron says dryly. “I’m not keeping it.”

“Okay,” says Alex, sounding a little strangled. “When did you find out?”

“Yesterday, at my doctor’s appointment? Just supposed to be a checkup or whatever and they were like, hey guess what. So that’s great.”

“Oh,” says Alex.

Alex says nothing more, and so Aaron says nothing, turns away from him, sleeps on the far edge of the bed with his back to Alex. Alex doesn’t move closer.

 

Alex comes home in the middle of the day later that week, having forgotten part of what he was working on at home. He finds Aaron asleep in their bed, curled in on himself so tight that Alex can’t even imagine how he was comfortable enough to fall asleep like that. Wonders why he’s home now, anyway, and then realizes.

He gets in bed with Aaron, slides in behind him. He touches Aaron’s cheek, and a wave of grief washes over him.

 

How did they end up like this?

 

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Aaron’s breath catches.

So he wasn’t asleep, after all.

Aaron turns over and pulls him down into his arms, clinging to him like his life depends on it, sobs openly into Alex’s shirt. Alex holds him close, holds him there.

“Why do you do it?” Aaron asks, and Alex can’t pretend like he doesn’t know what Aaron is asking about. “What is it that I’m not giving you? We have sex anytime you want to, like -- what, do you want to do it more? Is that what you need? I’ll give it to you, I don’t  _ care _ . I’ll wait here for you to get home from work and let you do whatever you want to me, fuck, it doesn’t matter, I’ll give it to you. Just tell me what you  _ need.” _

When Alex doesn’t respond immediately, Aaron keeps talking. “Or is it not about the sex? I don’t know who you’re fucking, are they gentle to you? Or do you want it rougher, do you want someone meaner than me? But Alex, Alex,  _ fuck _ , I don’t know what it is but I’ll do it. Swear to god. Just tell me so I  _ know _ .” His voice breaks.

Alex isn’t sure if he could be more ashamed than he is in this moment. It suffocates him.

He forces himself to take a breath. “You love me,” he says.

Aaron stares at him, dumbstruck, confused, upset.

“God, you love me and I ruin everything. Fuck. I. What do you want, Aaron? Do you want to divorce me? It’d be more than fair --”

“No, god,  _ no _ , fuck, I... do you want to get a divorce?” There’s real fear in Aaron’s voice, in Aaron’s eyes.

Alex backtracks hastily. “No! No no no, not if you don’t!”

Aaron closes his eyes.

“No,” Alex says again, more firmly. “No, I don’t want to.”

“You act like you don’t care about me, you know that, right? I’m not sure you do anymore, at all. If you’ve found someone better… someone who you like more, someone you can actually be in love with? Maybe you should.”

“I haven’t,” says Alex.

“Then why the fuck are you off doing whatever it is you’re doing every goddamn night?” There’s no vitriol, just tiredness, and that somehow makes it worse.

“I don’t know,” Alex says.

Aaron stares at him. “If you don’t know then why are you doing it?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, okay, I just  _ am _ because I --” He stops.

“Because you what?”

“Because I want to,” Alex says sheepishly.

“ _ Well _ ,” says Aaron. “You aren’t the only goddamn person with wants in this relationship. You know what I want? I want my husband to want to come home to me. I want to not be alone in this fucking quiet house every night till you finally drag your sorry ass home from wherever the fuck. I want my husband to have maybe asked how I was doing even one stupid time after I told you that I was --” He can’t make himself say it. Alex nods his understanding. “I had to get Theodosia to take me to the appointment because you haven't been home while I've been awake in two days and I just -- I just wish that for one goddamn second I ever felt like you remembered that I’m a person too. God. That’s the first time I’ve heard you say you’re sorry and you thought I was asleep. You couldn't even say it to my face.”

So, “I’m sorry,” Alex says again, and means it. Aaron is sitting up now, looking somewhere between angry and miserable. “You deserve someone better than me. Fuck.”

“It’s too late, you know that, right? I love you. God help me, I love you so much and it hurts every second. I hate it. I hate you, sometimes, but I can’t stop loving you. And -- and.” A shuddery inhale. “I don’t even know if you love me. I don’t even think you know if you love me.”

Alex is silent for too long. Aaron shrinks back against the headboard, suspicions confirmed.

“You’re right,” Alex says, softly, reaching for Aaron’s hand. Aaron goes tense. “You’re right. I don’t know. But maybe -- maybe, if you’re willing to give me just one more chance -- I can try to figure it out?”

Aaron studies him. He’s silent for a long time.

Just when Alex thinks he’s about to say no, to tell him to get out, he says, “If you want another chance, you’re going to stop seeing other people, and we are going to get some fucking therapy.”

Alex gives a watery laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay. Now come here and hold me, for god's sake, you've got a lot of lost time to make up."

**Author's Note:**

> SEE I WAS NOT LYING IN THE TAGS but even my bad stuff has to have a hopeful ending bc that's who i am as a human being
> 
> anyway now i've gotten that out of my system maybe i can actually write the stuff i need to write ~~LIKE MY ESSAY FOR TOMORROW~~


End file.
